Jan. 31, 2009
Since the beginning of time, the story of Abraham has terrified me. For awhile, it was my excuse for aversion to religion. I did not believe I could pass such a test, nor did I want to be involved with a God who would command one. But of course, we are all involved with God , through our acceptance or denial, and I’ve yet to come to terms with such a test but continue to struggle in my faith.
I remember planning, on this cusp of a year anniversary, the things I would bring here to Africa to sustain me. I remember entertaining the thought of being sustained only by the Qu’ran for a year of discovery and growth. And I have thought of this frequently as I’ve devoured nearly every (worthwhile?) book in the high school library (and am certain to complete the task by the end of next year.)
I have been reading voraciously here as there are few opportunities for socialization or entertainment. Books have become a source of company. My choices have held several lessons for me and many have involved themes of philosophy and religion. It has almost been uncanny the way they lead me back to my original plan of self-reflection and understanding. Of finding faith.
But my fear remains. I am deeply entrenched in a Christian community and often uncomfortable by it. Perhaps I should say, it serves to reinforce my own faith. I actually have quite a few Muslim students but their orthodoxy follows something either a bit too strong for me or something completely alien. There is a strand here, popular in the Indian community, that is unknown to me. And I haven’t taken the time to understand it.
I have a distinct memory, several years ago, of teaching in a NY school during the Christmas holiday period. The school allowed carolers to come around and sing in the hallways. It was early in my discovery of the truth and I was filled with all the righteous indignation and excitement of one who believes they know what others cannot yet see. When they began singing songs of Jesus in a manager, my heart began to beat wildly and my face grew hot. I retreated in a panic to my classroom and settled into a chair behind my desk, breathing slow and deep in search of calm composure.
I’ve since come to better terms with the Jesus issue and managed to merge my Catholic school upbringing with my Muslim beliefs. But I frequently feel the same sense of alienation and detachment here. While I can honor Jesus as a prophet, I cannot pray to his name, there is only one God.
But I did not mean to come here to begin a discussion or debate of religious views. Actually, I returned to the subject of Abraham as related to the dissolution of yet another relationship, as once writ and discarded under the auspices of a ‘tell some but not a tell-all.’ It has turned into yet another war, with the casualty of children.
It is not something I think I can endure again, as once proved enough to nearly undo me- and probably served grandly as a catalyst for this very moment.
